


Who's a good boy then

by GoodThingsAndSmallPackages



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Collars, M/M, Smoking, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-29
Packaged: 2017-11-19 09:57:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/572046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodThingsAndSmallPackages/pseuds/GoodThingsAndSmallPackages
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first thing that you need to know is that love does not exist. It is a fantasy, a myth. A lie to keep you warm at night. There a few true emotions that are real – obsession. Jealousy, lust, envy. Primal emotions that keep us alive and ticking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

The first thing that you need to know is that love does not exist. It is a fantasy, a myth. A lie to keep you warm at night. There a few true emotions that are real – obsession. Jealousy, lust, envy. Primal emotions that keep us alive and ticking.  
With that being said, Stiles didn’t know what new hell he had gotten himself into. He was obsessed with a certain persons scent. When Erica, Isaac, Boyd and even Scott spend time with him, Stiles grew unnecessarily jealous – he would eye the lingering touches, always biting his tongue so the words could not escape him. Lusted after them with every waking moment, he even lusted during the unconscious hours. The most prominent emotion however, was envy. This would hit him in the chest like a high-speed train. Yet, Stiles couldn’t really understand the envy.  
Of course, Derek was gorgeous; anything with a pulse could tell you that. But that wasn’t it – Derek had a purpose, he was the Alpha, in charge of his pack of immature pups, he needed to be there. Stiles, however, was the loose end to the group. Ever since Lydia found out about the Kanima, Werewolves, hunters – the whole shebang – she became the smart-ass of the pack, leaving Stiles redundant. He was simply the Jeep driver and the fool who says the wrong things and gets in the way. These thoughts would always lead to a panic attack. Each time Derek would smile at someone, laugh, arm brushing with one of his pack, Stiles chest would swell, breath coming in short painful gasps – he would drown in the conflicting emotions.  
So he took up smoking. Idiotic, yes. But it helped. The burning in his lungs would calm him; he had a new obsession, something else to focus on while he was with the pack. It took a bottle of Jack Daniels stolen off his Dad to convince Scott to not tell the before mentioned or Melissa. The pack, he didn’t need to worry about. His home, school and pack life were all separate – for the most of the time. This didn’t stop the pups from complaining at him, informing him of the risks of cancer. As if he didn’t already know all that shit – watching your own mother die gives you a good insight to cancer that only a handful of people share.  
Derek, however, would only turn his nose up each time Stiles lit up, looking disgusted. Well, cigarettes aren’t the nicest smelling things in the world. Maybe some flavoured tobacco or something? A sweeter aroma for the sensitive noses of his company.  
Don’t be an idiot Stiles. This is your bad habit, everyone has one. This is for you and you alone.

Lighting up a new cigarette at the beginning of a pack meeting, ignoring the sneer from the group and the looks from Derek – which Stiles would not admit, made his heart race – he savoured the acrid smoke spreading through him from between his lips. The pack meeting was normal, boring old crap. The hunters hate us. Scott arguing with Derek as to why Allison can’t the meeting, because yes, Scott was that dense when it came to issues with the Argents. Lydia petting Jackson and baring her teeth when Derek commented on his incompetence. Isaac daydreaming throughout most of the meeting, but when his new love interested was mentioned the hackles came up – as usual. Now, what idiot couldn’t see this couple happening? Boyd and Erica, almost a supernatural parallel to Romeo and Juliet. Young love at its finest, together on the floor surrounded with pillows, both hanging on every word Derek has to offer, as if that can help them save one another from the eternity of damnation they’re heading towards. On the end of the sofa, with a nearly full ashtray placed in front of him, sat Stiles. Paying attention, yes, but his sole focus was on the way Derek’s muscles moved under his tight shirt, how his dark jeans hugged his thighs, those beautiful hands which Stiles has spent many nights fantasising about them being wrapped tightly around his neck and agonisingly hard co-  
Thank fuck for smoking. After nearly burning his fingers from a neglected cigarette, Stiles banished those thoughts from his head, hoping the weres couldn’t sense the arousal coming off of him, again, thank fuck for smoking and the awful smell.  
Pay attention Stiles, this could save your life. Repeating this mantra throughout the remainder of the meeting kept him safe from any awkward glances from the gang. It’s not like they couldn’t already tell, but there was no need for another painful and embarrassing conversation between him and Scott about how weird wanting the “old man” Alpha was. Was he even that old? A couple of years, surely? Having your entire family burn to death, save a psychopathic and ridiculously sassy uncle and alpha sister – who shortly got decapitated – puts a fair amount of stress on a guy. It’s surprising that Derek doesn’t look like a homeless drug addict.  
Isaac brushes past him, all his focus on the small mobile phone in his hands, mumbling a small goodbye to Stiles. The pack meeting must be over then. Standing and casually rearranging his genitals (having erections at inopportune times tend to leave you highly uncomfortable), and grabbing his half-finished packet of cigarettes and lighter, he waits for Scott, who is yet again in a heated debate with Derek about Allison and how she isn’t like Kate and totally forgives Derek for biting her mother thus leading to her “suicide” and Allison no longer wants Dereks’ head on a stake to present to her family blabla. How many times has Stiles heard this? Yeah, Allison is smart and pretty bad-ass, but it doesn’t take a genius to tell that inviting someone who comes from a werewolf hunting family to a werewolf pack meeting isn’t the greatest of ideas. Jackson and Lydia skim past, giggling and one another – and here we have some more sickening love birds. It seems everyone has someone apart from Stiles, who simply longs for Derek from afar. Lighting up yet another cigarette, Stiles kicks at the gravel collecting around the front door. Derek should really try and make this burnt old shell of a house a home again. It could be beautiful. The pack could help, cheap labour passing for a bonding experience. Plus, Stiles would get a chance to watch Derek become hot and bothered, sweat plastering his body and dirty wife-beater clinging to his chest.  
God damnit Stiles. Behave. At least wait to have these stupid immature thoughts.  
Catching off guard, Scott scurries past him, tail between his legs, obviously been put in his place by Derek, until next time. Blowing a lungful of smoke towards Derek, Stiles grins in farewell before turning on his heel and following Scott out the door. After only making it only a few steps, Stiles is grabbed by the collar of his shirt, being yanked back into the Hale residence and dropping his precious cigarette and safety harness when in the presence of Derek. Being spun round and slammed into the recently closed door took around three seconds to process in his already jumbled mind. When coming into focus again, Stiles realised that Derek was scarily close to his own face, nose upturned and lip curled in a sneer. Licking his lips in an attempt of a witty remark, Stiles opens his mouth, but what escapes his lungs is a gasp turn moan instead of a sarcastic comment. Derek has placed his hands around Stiles jaw, turning and tilting his head so his neck is on show, all the while remaining eye contact. A long lick up his neck, followed from a guttural growl from Derek had Stiles clawing at the wall, leaving splinters under his nails.  
“You smoke too much, its ruining your scent” Derek sighed under Stiles ear. Again, words were not cooperating with Stiles mouth, so he simply stood, hanging onto the old door, panting and trying to wake up from this fucking dream he was clearly having. A squeeze to his neck, making it harder to breathe had Stiles moaning and gasping  
“Be a good boy and cut down”  
And just like that. Stiles was turned around and pushed out of Derek’s house. Scott was waiting in the Jeep already on the phone to Allison with a dopey grin on his face. Erica, Isaac and Boyd were long gone, as were Lydia and Jackson. No one else knew what happened, Stiles didn’t even know what happened, but he now had plenty more to fantasise about and had decided with no influence from anyone else to cut down on his tobacco addiction. Starting after this neat soldier of death. Lighting up on Derek’s porch, and hearing a warning growl from inside, Stiles let out a shaky laugh, reorganised his boner, and strutting to the Jeep.  
Be a good boy.  
He didn’t even get though a quarter of the cigarette before throwing it to the ground and stubbing it out with his boot. Stiles could swear he heard a “now that’s a good boy” coming from behind him. The front door had been slammed shut so it was just in his head. But the way Scott was looking at him confused and a tad sickened, it may have not been his imagination afterall.  
Jumping into his Jeep, Stiles drove Scott and himself to their own respective houses, not at all uncomfortable to know that both best friends would be having some major personal time for the rest of the day.


	2. 2

As promised, the remainder of his day was spent as a heaving wreck tangled in his sweaty bed sheets. The vivid memory of Derek’s hand wrapped around his neck, his warm words uttered against Stiles neck never leaving him. After each climax, Stiles hands would search for his packet of cigarettes, but then like a mallet to his chest, Derek’s praise of good boy came back to him, groaning and writhing simply from the thought. Collapsing onto his bed again, Stiles hand trailed down to his stomach and began furiously fisting his already hard cock.  
Masturbate, urge to smoke, resist, Derek. Rise and repeat.  
This pattern continued until the pain of skin rubbing against skin became more prominent than the pleasure. And so he lay. Covered in his own cum, out of breath and as naked as the day he was born. Dragging himself up and loping to the bathroom, he stood, in front of the small mirror, eyeing his pale face, bright red lips from biting back moans, short hair, bones jutting out in all the wrong places. Self-loathing came hand in hand with having a wank. Who else would want to touch this pathetic 120 pounds of human flesh. No wonder his dad drinks so much.  
Enough Stiles. That’s enough.  
After a cold and brisk shower, rubbing soap into his skin hard enough he became a lovely shade of red, Stiles began preparing dinner. Lasagne. Perfect. Takes enough time and preparation to keep his mind occupied until exhaustion took over. Once it was prepared and in the oven, Stiles let himself have a cigarette. He’s done pretty well after all, managing to not have one for around three hours. Standing in the back yard, hidden away from the neighbours who would inform the Sherriff that his underage son smokes like a chimney – that was something he didn’t need. His phone began vibrating in his pocket, a text from Derek.  
What did I tell you?  
Choking on a lungful of smoke, Stiles quickly typed back a reply, allowing a witty response this time around.  
Three hours I’ve been a “good boy” for you, this is my reward. How do you even know? Being a creeper as usual?  
Stiles continued to enjoy his dose of nicotine, before hiding the butt in a small hole by the fence in his back yard, alongside all of the others. The lasagne was in the oven, so all there was left was homework or watching shitty tv shows. He opted for doing both. Sprawling out on the floor and turning on the old tv, not taking any of it in, but welcoming the noise. An essay on ‘Lord of the Flies’ – English professors really had no imagination when it came to things like this. Jack would be Derek, obviously, he would be the leader of the hunters. Ralph, clearly Scott, with Stiles being the “lieutenant” Piggy. Before he could continue casting the pack as characters of ‘Lord of the Flies’ the doorbell rang. Assuming it would be an elderly woman, here to make a suggestion to his father on how to do his job better, on how to make sure Beacon Hills is safer, Stiles braced himself with an award winning smile, swinging the door open and finding nothing. Only a small package sat on the doorstep.  
Stepping outside, Stiles looked around. Maybe kids playing a prank? Well, they forgot to set the package of dog shit on fire before running off. Kicking the package, Stiles decided to cautiously open it, still remaining on the doorstep in-case something messy came out. What he saw made him turn bright red and shuffle inside and trip upstairs back to his bedroom, ripping the curtains closed, heart pounding and blood racing though his veins.   
In this innocent looking brown package was a collar. A plan, soft, black leather collar. Alongside this was a white box. Opening this, the first thing he saw was a note, with messy scrawl was “this can be your reward”. Inside this box was a dildo. Just a standard flesh coloured phallic shaped object. Stiles hands began shaking, he ran from his room, skidding into the bathroom searching for the jar of Vaseline that was stashed in there. Stiles has experimented with this kind of thing before. While in the shower, when his dad had a night shift, it always resulted with him panting and laying in a foetal position on his bedroom floor, unable to move, panting and shaking from the intensity of it. The sound of the oven beeping, alerting him that the food was done and if he didn’t move and get his ass downstairs it would end up bubbling over, meaning his down would lecture him again about how hard cleaning the oven is.  
Stuffing the collar and dildo back under his pillow, Stiles cautiously walked downstairs, still feeling shaken from his new gift. Dinner was – strange. Stiles usually looked forward to eating lasagne, but he couldn’t quite taste it, it was just chalk crumbling in his mouth, the film he decided to watch was just white noise, deafening him. The urge to go upstairs, back to his room and place the collar on, fuck himself in the ass until he could no longer walk or sit without flinching. The idea that Derek would know what he had done. Startling him from his wondering thoughts, his phone vibrated against his leg. His thoughts began to race even more, maybe it was Derek, maybe he had some instructions to give, maybe-  
Nope. It was his Isaac, not that he was disappointed that Isaac was asking Stiles for relationship advice rather than his new best buddie Scott, but still. Wait a minute. Why was he asking STILES for relationship advice? Out of the group, Stiles was the only one who wasn’t actually in a relationship. Yeah he’s had some flings with random girls at parties, with guys in club bathrooms, but surely that didn’t suffice enough experience for relationship advice. Maybe it was the fact that Stiles is the only one who had been with someone of the same sex, and had a vague idea of how to go about the business.  
Stiles placed the dirty dishes in the sink on his way to the back garden, fishing his packet cigarettes out of his pocket alongside his phone to type out a reply to Isaac. Lighting his cigarette, he received a new text, this time it was from Derek. Simply seeing his name appear on the screen on his phone made his dick begin to harden in his jeans.  
If rewards don’t give you enough motivation to cut down, I can always punish you.  
Stiles, being the moron that he is, didn’t reply, and didn’t put out his cigarette. Curiosity took over him, would the Alpha have enough balls to go through with this “punishment”? Of course he would, this is Derek we’re talking about here. But, the morbid curiosity took over him and he wanted to know what this punishment was.   
Curiosity killed the cat, you know. It’s a good think he’s not a were-cat or something.   
Finishing up his essay on ‘Lord of the Flies’ it was near enough the time he usually went to bed, one more cigarette, just to somehow annoy Derek (he must be able to smell Stiles scent mixing with the acrid smoke. There was no way that Derek would be camping outside his house for the whole afternoon and evening). Hiding the collar and brand new dildo somewhere in his room was a feat in itself. Changing his bed sheets was also an embarrassing experience. At the time he didn’t know just how much mess he had actually made.   
Exhaustion finally hit him after preparing his bag for school tomorrow, and collapsing on his front in bed, sleep overtook him.  
This was, before he was rudely awakened by cold air rushing through his bedroom. He didn’t even open his bedroom window, its fall, too chilly for that kind of thing. Staggering over to his window to slam it shut with some mumbled swearing, he was suddenly grabbed by the waist and thrown onto his bed, arms lifted above his head and secured together with what felt like a plastic cable tie. It didn’t help situations that it was pitch black in his room, so he couldn’t even make out a vague shape of this “attacker”.  
It didn’t even pass through Stiles mind to scream until now, but as he opened his mouth and drew in a breath, something was shoved into his waiting mouth – it felt like cotton, and it better not be a dirty sock because that is just hideous – yeah Stiles this is the right thing to be thinking about in this situation fucksake this is why you always get in so much shit.  
His yelp was muffled by the make-shift gag in his mouth as he was flipped over on his stomach, his stomach laying on something warm and hard. Warm breath goasted over his back and neck, and that was when the identity of this person came crashing down. “I told you that I would punish you, kid.”  
Derek. His voice alone had Stiles painfully hard, straining against his boxers and pressing against Derek’s thigh. Cold air suddenly hit his bare ass and thighs and Derek ripped his boxers down, a warm hand rubbed against his ass and lower back, causing Stiles to wine and writhe. Derek pushed one hand into Stiles lower back as the other continued to rub comforting circles on his thighs.   
“I told you to cut down on the smoking, didn’t I Stiles? I told you that it ruined your scent. I even got you a treat, a collar for you to be a good boy – my good boy. But that wasn’t enough was it? I know how the mention of punishment affected you. You’ve been bad, Stiles, I may have to take your gifts away, since you clearly didn’t appreciate them.”  
These words caused Stiles to wine even more, cock becoming painfully hard, aching to be touched. His hands were bound above his head, and by the way Derek was pushing down at the base of his back meant that there was no way he could manoeuvre his hands down for some so desperately needed relief.  
Suddenly, there was a sharp smack, the sound echoing throughout his bedroom. The pain of Derek’s palm meeting Stiles bare ass had him shaking, a scream not quite escaping his mouth. The force of the slap caused his hips to thrust forward, this dick rubbing against the rough material of Derek’s jeans. “You’re going to receive ten of these Stiles” Another smack, another groan and another thrust. “And you’re going to enjoy every one, I know you will”. Smack. “This doesn’t mean that you can continue the rate that you do, just because you enjoy the punishment”, smack, “because you will enjoy the reward much more than this”. Smack.  
Between each time hand met bare skin, Derek rubbed soothing motions into Stiles increasingly reddening ass. Smack. “Don’t you want to be a good boy Stiles?” Smack. “My good boy. I know you do. I know the fantasies you have”, smack. Stiles was wining, pre-cum leaking over Derek’s jeans, hands clutching his bed sheets. Saliva leaking from his open mouth, the embarrassment of enjoying this turned him on even more. The friction on rubbing against rough fabric and the sheer intensity of Derek being in his room, spanking him had him close to orgasm. “Keep your scent sweet for me Stiles, you know how much I love it.” Smack. “Now, be a good boy and cum for me. I know your close, if not for the fact I can smell your arousal, I can feel it in the way your body moves. Cum for me.”   
Smack.  
A whorish moan escaped Stiles wet lips, back arching against the bed, pushing his crotch further into Derek’s lap. As he came, one hand continued to rub his raw ass, the other held Stiles head, turning him to face the window. Derek carefully moved Stiles off of his lap, while he was still limp from orgasm and laid a gentle kiss to his temple. “There’s my good boy. I’m proud”, with that and an affectionate rub to his head, Stiles was left alone again. Hands still bound above his head, still laying on top of his bed sheets and boxers still around his thighs.   
Panting, stiles found unconsciousness again. Not worrying about whether his dad would come check on him when he got home, and not thinking about how difficult getting up in the morning is going to be.


	3. 3

The day hadn’t started off good at all. First, Stiles couldn’t quite reach his alarm clock when it began shrieking at an unholy hour of the morning. The reason for this? His hands were secured by cable ties, shoulders stiff and cold. After wiggling his way across the bed, he finally managed to turn his alarm off. Rolling onto his back, Stiles attempted to sit up straight, only now noticing the slight crusty feel of his skin around his belly and thighs, and the numb ache of his ass cheeks when they came in contact with the soft fabric of his bed sheet. Frowning and still bleary from sleep, Stiles swung his legs off the bed, feet meeting the floor, and with one step, successfully fell flat onto his face. With this crash to the floor, the prior evening’s events also came crashing down.  
Scrambling on the floor, attempting to get to his feet again and get his thoughts in check, Stiles caught a glimpse of some old boots through the gap under his bed – sitting in his computer chair, was Derek Hale. With a blush that covered his chest, Stiles attempted to cover himself to try and maintain some kind of dignity. And Derek? The bastard, just sat there and smirked at Stiles, as if this situation was normal and not panic attack inducing at all.   
“Four cigarettes today, that’s all. If you smoke more, I will know, and your punishment will be worse. If you manage it, a reward is in order”, as Derek said this, he rose out of Stiles computer chair, crouched down and cut the cable tie from around his wrists, soothing Stiles sore wrists with gentle rubs. While Stiles was choking on his own tongue, Derek huffed out a laugh and left – out of the window, jeez, he was predictable.  
This left Stiles still lying on his bedroom floor, flushing red, ass and flaccid cock still on show, stuttering out insults to the empty room. Noticing the time, and that he was late for school, Stiles didn’t even have time to clean the dried cum off of his stomach, just grabbed the nearest set of clean clothes, hurriedly dressing while brushing his teeth, grabbing his bag and sprinting out the house. Due to his jeep being fairly old it was always better to leave around five minutes earlier than needed, just in case. But today, ignoring the awful and embarrassing events first thing, she started fine. Grinning and lighting one of his rationed cigarettes, Stiles began his drive to Scott’s house. Something they had agreed on a while ago, Stiles would pick up Scott if Scott would bring some kind of breakfast food to eat on the way. The timing was perfect, Stiles finished his cigarette by the time he arrived at Scott’s house, smiling when he saw the puppy grin on his best friends face.  
“A granola bar, really? Why do I even bother coming out of my way to pick you up for this rabbit food.”  
“We didn’t have anything else! I promise I’ll get you something real tasty at school, or buy you cigarettes. I just really can’t be riding my bike to school anymore and mum needs the car for work and- dude, you could have cleaned up after yourself. I really don’t need to be smelling you semen this early in the morning.”  
This had Stiles snorting, as if Scott could lecture him on awkward moments, Stiles has basically been a saint with all the inappropriate boners Scott’s sprouted. “I got up late okay? And don’t worry about the fags, I’m cutting down.”  
This had Scott snorting in disbelief, and before he had a chance to inquire as to why, Stiles shoved the rabbit food into his mouth and turned up the radio, successfully silencing his best friend as a song that reminded him of Allison came on. The remainder of the journey was spent in comfortable silence, until Scott’s phone beeped loudly, causing him to swear. It simply read: pack meeting tonight, 7pm. As Scott read this out, a pang of jealousy shot through Stiles, making him urge for his second of the four cigarettes. It was stupid, Stiles knew this. Why was he becoming annoyed that Derek didn’t text him? Stiles knows that he is not truly part of the pack, just a weak human, disposable, but a small part of him had always hoped.  
Pulling into the school parking lot, Scott instantly jumped out of the jeep, jogging in the direction of the “super special romantic meeting spot” to wait for Allison to turn up. Stiles phone buzzed, alerting him to a new message. Pack meeting tonight at 7. Be a good boy today.  
Luckily Stiles was alone in the car when he read this, the stupid smile on his face and the way his jeans tightened was not an experience he wanted to share. Feeling brave, Stiles quickly typed back will I be getting a reward? before wandering to class. Stiles had his third of the four cigarettes during lunch break, conveniently timed for when he read Derek’s reply, simply a yes. His fourth was smoked on his way over to the pack meeting, hoping that it would calm his unnecessary nerves. Stepping out of his jeep and stamping out the still glowing cigarette butt, Stiles began his walk to the front door of the Hale residence. Grinning as saw the rest of the pack waiting on the front porch – it was an unwritten rule that the whole pack would wait until all have arrived, and then Derek would allow them in his house. Finally, when Lydia and Jackson arrived, both looking rather dishevelled, making many of the pack turn their noses up at the scent of mixed arousal, Derek opened the front door. Apparently a big boss Alpha wanted to come and check out Derek’s pack and make sure he knew what he was doing, let’s not lie, he had no idea. But in these kinds of situations the pack actually pulled together and got on with only minimal arguments. Isaac would not mention his new love the visitor, Jackson would keep his cocky mouth shut, Lydia would sit and look pretty, Erica and Boyd would stick to each other’s sides as usual and not bite anyone’s head off when they came near. Under no circumstances would Scott mention Allison Argent who he was boning and contemplating proposal. And Stiles? He had to keep sarcastic comments to himself and not smoke in the presence of the pack.   
In other pack news, the Argents are feeling okay with the weres because Derek has managed to keep his puppies in control, Mr Deaton was still as creepy as ever and made an appearance to hand out some helpful advice on how to address a strange Alpha. Meeting adjourned.   
Scott ran off so he could meet Allison in the woods, which wasn’t at all predictable, and the rest of the pack went their separate ways in their usual manner. When Derek requested Stiles to stay behind, he did get an odd glance from Isaac, but no questions asked. Stiles needed a cigarette. Anything to calm his nerves. Instead, he began tying and untying knots in an old piece of string he kept on him. Sensing his nerves, and not doing anything to help calm them, Derek simply smirked and backed Stiles against the wall, palms flat against the wall either side of Stiles downturned head. “Look at me.” Automatically, Stiles head whipped up, eyes meeting Derek’s glowing eyes. “How many have you smoked today?”  
“Four. Like you asked.” Stiles mouth was dry, breathing shallow from the sheer intensity that was Derek Fucking Hale, fingers winding tight into the string, cutting off blood circulation.  
Leaning in, Derek breathed hot against Stiles ear “now there’s my good boy”, with that, Derek bit hard into Stiles neck, one hand moving to support Stiles’ head and the other around his waist. Stiles went rigid, in every sense of the word. Knees locked, hands in tense fists in front of him, cock straining against his jeans. As Derek let go, Stiles let out an unmanly wine, leaning his neck and chest forward, chasing Derek’s mouth for more contact. Letting out a huff of a laugh, Derek shoved Stiles by the shoulders back against the wall, keeping him an arm’s length. “You told the truth, you did well. Now what shall your reward be? You disobeyed me yesterday, but you took the punishment so beautifully. Hmmmm…” as Derek spoke, he rubbed his calloused thumb against Stiles cheekbone, causing Stiles to lean further into his hand. Suddenly Derek stepped away, catching Stiles off guard causing him to stagger forward. Derek held Stiles gently, lovingly and terrifyingly by the back of his neck, leading him further into his house, into parts Stiles has never seen before, and into Derek’s small makeshift room. “None of the pack have been in here before. I hope you understand the significance.”  
Stiles was speechless, not only from the bite and the warm rough hand around his neck, not even by the proximity of the man of his desires, but the fact Derek had trusted him, allowed and welcomed him into this personal bubble. He’ll have to do as he’s asked more often if this is where it gets him. Cutting Stiles short of his thoughts, Derek manouvered Stiles so the back of his knees were touching Derek’s bed. “Feet apart, hands behind your back” – when Stiles hesitated to do this, Derek roughly grabbed Stiles by his neck, cutting of his supply of oxygen and letting out a pathetic moan. Derek began snarling “do you want your reward or not kid?”  
“y-y-yes. Okay. Please. Yes please” stuttered Stiles, as he quickly flung his arms around his back, clenching his hands together. Smirking, Derek stepped forward, and while maintaining eye contact, began to unbuckle Stiles jeans.  
“One day, when you have earned it, I will place the collar on you, and I will fuck you in the ass with the fake cock I got you. You’re not ready for me yet, you’ll have to be an extra good boy to earn that. Understand?” By this time, Stiles jeans and boxers were bunched around his ankles, his erection an angry red, dripping pre-cum and bobbing in time with Derek’s words.  
“Yes. I understand. Yesssss” Derek’s leisurely stoke against Stiles cock turned into a painful grip, as he snarled   
“Yes Sir?”  
“There’s my good boy” and with a smirk, Derek sunk down onto his knees, hand in a loose grip around the base of Stiles cock, pushing it upwards so he could lick at Stiles balls. A long lick up the shaft had Stiles’ hands reaching for Derek, to touch his hair, his face, shoulders, anything. A sharp bite to Stiles thigh, nearly breaking the skin had him yelping and pulling his hands to his chest. A warning growl from the Alpha kept Stiles hands there as Derek took Stiles down to the base, humming around his full mouth. Now, at this point, Stiles was a quivering mess. Yes, he’s had a blowjob before, but not from Derek, an Alpha, his Alpha. Derek began bobbing his head, hands grasping Stiles thighs, tongue swirling around the head, dipping into his slit, pulling Stiles forskin between his lips. Stiles was making noises he wasn’t even aware he could make, no coherent words were made, just noises, mumbles. Moans and whimpers. Stiles had no idea how long Derek had been doing this, taking him deep in his throat, swallowing around his head, but Stiles was close to cumming, when Derek, disappointingly, pulled away, leaving a trail of saliva connecting the two.  
“Beg” was the one syllable out of Derek’s mouth before he returned to destroying any sanity that Stiles had with his unholy mouth.  
“Oh please. Derek pleasssse. Oh god, ohgodfuck. Ple-please Sir. Please Derek. Sirrrhhnngggg.”  
And with an affirmative hum, locking eyes with Stiles, he pulled back far enough that Stiles head was in the centre of his tongue, swirling around his head. With a scream, hands clenching into his own shirt, Stiles came, eyes blackening, unable to see, as he had one of the most intense orgasms. Panting, and shaking, he stared at Derek, who pulled back, with a mouthful of Stiles cum, stood up and pulled Stiles into a passionate kiss, passing Stiles’ release back to him. Stroking Stiles neck with his thumb, Derek smirked “good boy”.  
If this was what he got, Stiles was going to do as he was told for once in his life.


	4. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who has taken time to read any of this, thank you, truly.  
> Firstly I would like to apologise for the formatting being a bitch and for it being so hard to read. I have no idea what the deal is, but I am trying to figure it out.  
> Secondly, sorry for this chapter being so short. I haven't written anything in weeks and it feels strange.  
> And again, thank you all.

For the next few days Stiles did exactly what he was told, being the perfect example of an obedient dog, not receiving any kind of reward, but simply promised that if he was patient, it would all be worth it. Stiles did get the odd kiss though, sudden bites on his neck, being slammed against walls – all of which made him instantly hard. It wasn’t as if Derek was even trying to arouse him, it was simply the knowledge that Stiles was allowed to feel the way that he did, that it wasn’t bad, and the small glimmer of hope that maybe Derek felt something back – even if it was just a kick from the control. Stiles would take anything.

The reward that Derek was promising came late Friday night; his Dad was out, which was usual for a Friday evening. As Stiles made his way up to his bedroom, he didn’t need to have supernatural powers to be able to sense that something was off. The air felt too tense, too hot. Cautiously opening his bedroom door he found Derek perched on the edge of the bed, fully dressed with his hands clasped loosely between his knees. Stiles froze, breath stuck in his throat. Slowly, shutting the door and leaning back on it, Stiles focused his eyes on the floor between Derek’s boots, focusing on his breath. His fingers yearned for a cigarette, anything to calm his nerves. Anything for a distraction – obviously sensing Stiles’ tension, Derek leisurely bought himself to his full height, shrugging off his leather jacket and throwing it to the floor and taking the few steps needed to meet Stiles. Leaning forward, Derek clasped Stiles chin, forcing eye contact. 

This was the kind of effect that Derek had on Stiles. Normally his mouth would be going a mile minute, crazy thoughts racing through his mind, conjuring up plans – but with Derek in close proximity, his voice clung inside his throat, refusing to budge. Smirking, Derek swung down for a kiss, surprisingly tender for the Alpha. Thumb stroking Stiles’ cheek, opening his mouth further – while still remaining eye contact through the surprisingly gentle kiss, Derek’s eyes flashed a dangerous red, causing Stiles to shudder, loose the small control that he had over himself and knees giving in. Lips breaking apart from an unfinished kiss, Stiles ungracefully sliding to the floor, Derek peering down, licking the smirk off of his lips. Panting from the innocent kiss, Stiles did nothing to hide his straining erection.  
Sighing, Derek turned away towards the bed “come here, boy”. When Derek had made it to the bed, backs of his knees touching it, noticing Stiles hadn’t moved an inch, Derek let out a growl, eyes again glowing red. Scrambling to his knees, Stiles crawled his way across the room, stopping at Derek’s knees. Not actually know what the protocol for this little situation was, but knowing that Derek was the alpha (who didn’t know that one?), the doglike behaviour, obedience etc. Stiles was just guessing. Was this the right thing to do? Would Derek like him being at his feet? The small laugh and stroke on Stiles head was confirmation to the jumble in his mind – allowing him to breathe easy again.  
“Now, where is the collar I got you? I would like you to fetch it for me.”

Attempting to get onto his knees, Stiles stumbled forward, tripping over his own feet, lunging forward to his wardrobe. Throwing the wardrobe doors open and clutching his collar, his shuffled back to Derek – embarrassment of his eagerness hitting him square in the face. Derek was now sitting again on the edge of Stiles bed, a smug grin on his mouth. Slowly reaching forward, Derek grasped the soft leather collar.

Stiles’ breath hitched in his throat, his chin was being held up by Derek’s finger, forcing him to raise his head the collar being fastened tightly around Stiles neck. Raising himself to his feet, Derek began to pace in a circle around Stiles' kneeling figure on the bedroom floor.  
"You've done well, Stiles. I'm very proud of you. You have earned the right to wear that collar - I hope you realise how much it can mean." While pacing, Derek ran his hand through Stiles short hair, nuzzling the palm into the dark fuzz. "I would now like you to stand Stiles, and strip. Please, don't attempt to do anything fancy, just rid yourself of your clothes, then, onto your knees on the bed, facing me, hands behind your head. You shall get your reward for being such a good boy soon, I promise you."


End file.
